Lykke Li Quotes

You know how it is. Every time you kiss someone else, in a way you always remember that very first time.

He Kept recalling her lying on his bed; she reminded him of no one in his former life.

Doesn't one always think of the past, in a garden with men and women lying under the trees? Aren't they one's past, all that remains of it, those men and women, those ghosts lying under the trees ... one's happiness, one's reality?

When you have really exhausted an experience you always reverence and love it. The two things that nearly all of us have thoroughly and really been through are childhood and youth. And though we would not have them back again on any account, we feel that they are both beautiful, because we have drunk them dry.

Mexico is only a memory of childhood safety.

I still connect with original emotions. 'Night Moves' was written about 1961 or 1962 when I was in high school, and it was about what my friends and I did in that period.

Quite often somebody will say, What year do your books take place? and the only answer I can give is, In childhood.

I was 13 and at summer camp when I had my first kiss.

A lot of things you see as a child remain with you... you spend a lot of your life trying to recapture the experience.

The spirit of the four hobbits in 'Lord of the Rings,' I suppose I miss that.

I'm quite disappointed that I'll never relive my teenage years.

I feel like, when we are young, especially, while we are experiencing so many 'firsts,' when songs move us, we recall exactly where we were when we heard them.

Somewhere beyond the sink-hole, past the magnolia, under the live oaks, a boy and a yearling ran side by side, and were gone forever.

It's stupid, I know, but I care. All the things that meant so much when we were young. Under the blankets late at night, listening to long-distance radio. All those things lost now or broken. Can you remember? Can you remember that feeling? Perhaps I ought to go to a doctor.

That was the summer of 1963, when everybody called me ‘Baby,’ and it didn't occur to me to mind.

MUSIC I heard with you was more than music, And bread I broke with you was more than bread. Now that I am without you, all is desolate, All that was once so beautiful is dead. Your hands once touched this table and this silver,And I have seen your fingers hold this glass. These things do not remember you, beloved: And yet your touch upon them will not pass. For it was in my heart you moved among them,And blessed them with your hands and with your eyes.And in my heart they will remember always: They knew you once, O beautiful and wise!

Cassandra wondered at the mind's cruel ability to toss up flecks of the past. Why, as she neared her life's end, her grandmother's head should ring with the voices of people long since gone. Was it always this way? Did those with passage booked on death's silent ship always scan the dock for faces of the long-departed?

Your old home town's so far away, but inside your head there's a record that's playing, a song called 'Hold On

My country or the stars Or my youth, what's farthest?

And so there would always be more to remember that could no longer be seen...our history is always returning to a little patch of weeds and saplings with an old chimney sticking up by itself...and here I look ahead to the resting of my case: I love the house that belonged to the chimney, holding it bright in memory, and love the saplings and the weeds.

Every day I'll wear your memory like a favorite shirt upon my back

By an image we hold on to our lost treasures, but it is the wrenching loss that forms the image, composes, binds the bouquet.

You're beautiful and sad," I said finally, not looking at him when I did. "Just like your eyes. You're like a song that I heard when I was a little kid but forgot I knew until I heard it again." For a long moment there was only the whirring sound of the tires on the road, and then Sam said softly, "Thank you.

The sight of anything extremely beautiful, in nature or in art, brings back the memory of what one loves, with the speed of lightning.